


Cellular Transformation

by CadetDru



Series: Cellular [1]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Gen, Insomnia, Running, Vampirism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-27
Updated: 2013-04-27
Packaged: 2017-11-29 15:55:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CadetDru/pseuds/CadetDru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set let's say mid-season 6; Mulder can't sleep so he goes for a run.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cellular Transformation

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Cellular](https://archiveofourown.org/works/33323) by [CadetDru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CadetDru/pseuds/CadetDru). 



It was four o'clock on a spring Sunday morning, and Mulder was wide awake. That was just fine. He wasn't bothering anyone. As a matter of fact, he had plenty of energy to burn. He was more productive on nights like these, when sleep just seemed like an inconvenience. He'd reviewed so much of his files on Saturday, re-cataloging and cross-referencing them.

Now it was Sunday, and he needed to get out, needed to get away. Physical activity was the best cure for it; he went for a run. Wanting to stay as safe as possible, he took his gun with him, and a water bottle. He was prepared for any kind of trouble, except for the kind he found.

He ran into a bat, or it flew into him. They collided, was the point of the thing, startling both, but the bat knew what to do about it. It bit him on the neck in classic form. Mulder dropped his water bottle and drew his gun before he had consciously processed what happened.

Cursing as he ran back home, Mulder held his left hand on his neck. His hands were none too clean, and it was pumping away around his fingers. Running more wasn't the best idea, but he just wanted it all over with.

He got out the first aid kit to clean up the twin tiny, jagged, aching wounds. The disinfectant stung. He tried to look at it in the mirror, craning his neck this way and that. He slapped a bandage on it.

He stared at himself in the mirror-- reflection still there. A hard, angular, unlikeable man was staring at him. A man unhappy with his life. His eyes were not dilated, and there were deep shadows around them. He'd slept Friday night, got up about twenty or so hours ago. The area around the puncture was not bleeding or putrefying or swelling. It hurt slightly to the touch. No other traumas. A little tremor in his hands, but that didn't mean anything.

He called Scully, the cheap store-brand adhesive bandage pulling on the hairs still standing on end. Five rings. "Scully, it's me," he said by way of greeting. His voice sounded strange to his own ears, the sound of that angular man. He was dissociating, and knowing it didn't mean it wasn't happening.

"I know it's you," she said, her voice slow heavy with sleep. "No one else would call me this late."

"I'm having a medical issue." His voice sounded calm, but the angular man always sounded calm.

She sighed. "So go to the emergency room."

"Can you come over?" he begged. No one else-- no stranger-- would have taken that as begging.

There was a pause, while she was undoubtedly checking the time. "No, Mulder," she said, a denial that was just a formality in case things went wrong. She would have that initial denial to point to, to say she had known it was all going to go to hell and back. She gave another sigh, heavy now with exasperation instead of sleep. She was awake, she was interested, she was practically on her way over. "Are you on drugs? You can tell me, I won't judge you."

He smiled at that. "You'll shoot me."

He could almost hear the nod. "I will shoot you, but I will not judge you."

He knew she was right. "I got bitten by a bat," he said, as calmly as he could.

Didn't seem to faze her a bit. "You'll need to get some shots, go to the doctor. You'll be fine."

"You're a doctor."

"I'm a federal agent, who has a gun and needs some sleep." Facts stated, she moved into the deductions, the logical chain she could follow as he laid it out. "You are not going to be able to convince me that this was a paranormal bat. God only knows why it would attack you-- where did this happen? Is there a bat in your apartment now?" She was interested.

"I went for a run."

"You're an idiot," she scoffed. She was looking for her car keys now, he knew it.

"I know; please?"

She didn't say anything.

"Scully?"

The sounds of clothing rustling. "I'm getting up, I'm getting dressed; I'll be there in thirty minutes so make me some coffee."

"I can check if the coffee shop's open."

"I'll check it on my way to the pharmacy." She sighed. "Mulder, you'd better be dying."

When Scully softly knocked on the door-- not waking the neighbors-- she had a cup of coffee and what appeared to be some donuts, a purse of some sort, and her gun in its holster. Her hair was pulled back or forward; Mulder couldn't quite tell. It was definitely up, a hairstyle of haste. There were things-- pins or barrettes-- sticking out of it. She was wearing faded and torn jeans and a grey T-shirt with faded black writing, covered with a matching grey sweatshirt too large to be her own. She didn't look like Scully, but she acted like her.

From the purse, she took out a bag from the pharmacy. She took off the sweatshirt to move easier, or maybe because it was warm inside Mulder's apartment. She herded him into the bathroom. She made him sit down on the closed toilet seat so she could properly clean out the wounds. She dabbed at his neck with alcohol and iodine.

He was shaking and scared; cataloging Scully grounded him.

"Ow." The tremors were getting worse.

She gripped his shoulder with her left hand. "Hold still, Mulder. You might have rabies." She pressed the square of gauze harder on his neck.

"Has anyone told you that you have a terrible bedside manner?"

"Yes, but I make house calls for free, in the middle of the night."

"It's morning now."

"No one else," she said softly. He didn't know if she meant no one else would do this for him, which was true, or that she would not do this for anyone else, which was probably also true.

"What if I turn into a vampire?" he said, because that was a more pressing concern.

"Mulder, you're not going to become a vampire," she said, using the tone she had perfected after all these years.

"I was bitten by a bat, Scully."

"So you've said."

"You don't believe me."

She sighed. "I want to believe you, Mulder. I want to know that you didn't get bitten by some girl you picked up who claimed to be a vampire."

Mulder blinked. "I don't. . .do that."

"I know, that would require talking to someone."

His jaw started its descent to the floor. He sized her up, in her t-shirt and jeans. He had to jab back, had to keep the sparring going. "Did you get shorter?"

"I'm not wearing heels," she said, rolling her eyes. "That's the entire idea, to give me height. Tonight, running shoes." She popped a thermometer into his mouth before he could say another word. "I dress for the situation, for the occasion; a time and place for all things, Mulder. You do it too, but you don't have to think about it the way I do. I'm not looking to be professional right now. I can be a slobby doctor for a five AM house call. How can you always manage to find the bad situation?"

He wanted to say it was a talent, a learned trick, a skill he'd honed over the years. He didn't say anything around the cold thermometer. He just waited for her to finish looking after him.

She stared at the thermometer, his lips, her eyes moving to the puncture wound. She took out the thermometer. "No fever, you're a little cold in fact." She smiled. "If you do become a vampire, I promise to open an X-file all about you."

"Gee, thanks, Dr. Scully."

She cocked her head to the side. "Is that who I am?"

She was God, she was the Lady Madonna, she was Athena; she was goodness and wisdom personified. She was everything he needed in his life. "Right now, you are my doctor. And my partner. And friend."

She didn't roll her eyes. She seemed too tired to even do that. She just slowly moved her head to the other side, another acute angle on top of her weary neck. "You haven't slept at all, have you?" she asked.

"No."

She led him out to the couch and had him sit quietly for a minute while she formulated a plan. A minute became sixty and the hour became all the time he had left awake.

He didn't dream so much as remember flight, blood, pain.

When he came back to himself, Scully was talking and daylight was streaming in. He was laying on his couch, covered by a blanket and wearing Scully's unzipped sweatshirt over his T-shirt. She was sitting on the arm of the couch, by his feet. She was staring at the cup of coffee in her hands.

"What if you're right?" she asked. Her words were meant for him, but she wasn't looking at him. Her hair was down, but still not fully Scully-like. The sunlight caught her hair, making the red glow.

He moved to watch her more closely.

"What if, in the world you live in, the reality you've created for yourself, your belief system... What if you really are turning into a vampire, undergoing a cellular transformation? What does that mean? Do I, will I have to kill you? Does it have to be a stake to the heart? Will you need blood from the bat that bit you before you can get to that point? Will you just waste away without it? Will the bat transform into a human form, come here to complete the ritual? Are you ever going to wake up?"

"Yes to the last," he croaked. "Hi."

"Hi." She looked at him. "You've been out for the last few hours."

"Have you been talking to me the whole time?"

"Off and on. Didn't want to wake you up with the TV, needed to stay awake myself. I wanted to keep an eye on you."

"Am I a vampire?"

Scully took off her necklace, that had been hidden under her T-shirt. She pressed the cross into his hand, closing his fingers around it. "Does that hurt?"

"No." It felt warm, where it had been pressed against her skin. He felt cold, but she was warm.

She took the necklace back from his unwilling hands. She re-clasped the chain around her neck. "You're not a vampire then."

"That's your test?" He reached up to touch the cross again.

"Yes." She nodded. "Hundred percent effective."

"You're supposed to be a scientist."

"You're supposed to be a psychologist. You tell me why people do the things they do."

"That's not who I am any more."

Her gaze turned to cold steel. "I'm too tired to think of all the reasons why you can't possibly be a vampire." She rubbed her eyes, her face; smoothing away the wrinkles starting to appear there. "And that's not..." She pressed her lips together. "Either vampires do not exist, in which case, you're not turning into one or they do, in which case the myths surrounding their vulnerabilities are true as well, and that was a valid test."

He didn't answer her.

She stood and came around to get him up off the couch. "There are more tests." She pulled him into a patch of sunlight. "You're not bursting into flames."

"That came into the myths later," he said, staring down at her. She'd taken off the sneakers.

She rolled her eyes. "Mulder."

"It doesn't prove anything."

She led him down to the bathroom, just as she had down when she first same in. He stared at his reflection in the mirror; he still had one. He looked fine. The shaking had stopped.

Scully looked so tired, so hard and angular and all the other things he'd seen in himself.

They walked back to the living room. "Do you want me to take you to the hospital?" she asked.

"No," he said, letting himself fall back onto the couch.

"If I don't take you, will you even go?"

He didn't answer, which was answer enough.

"You'll be fine, Mulder." She stretched and sat next to him on the couch.

"I'll be fine," he repeated softly.

"Yes. And you're going to get a rabies shot."

"Scully."

"And some more sleep. And possibly a prescription for sleeping pills so you won't be outside in bat caves in the middle of the night."

"I'm not taking any pills."

"Mulder." Her voice was so soft, so tired. Just like her. "You're tired, Mulder. Your mind just jumped to some conclusions, some. . .hopes."

"Hopes?" he echoed.

She reached for his neck, touching the gauze lightly. "Vampires never age, never die except deliberately at the hands of their enemies. Immortality is something we all strive for, in way or another. We all fear death, the process of dying." She drew her hand up towards her chin, then quickly took it away. "And that's not even getting into the psycho-sexual aspect of it. . .it's a metaphor for seduction, for sex, for power and lust and every other interpersonal sin. It's an attractive concept, driven by the power of belief. And you did get bitten by something."

If they were different people, if the situation was different, if he was someone else. . . "Thank you," he said.

She gave him a genuine smile at that. "You're welcome, Mulder."

"I'll be fine. I'll get checked out. I'll get the shots. I won't turn into a vampire. You won't have to kill me."

The ghost of a smile turned up the corners of her lips. "I still might."

She let herself out, and he fell back asleep.


End file.
